


Courier Six & Collar Twelve

by LastAstronaut



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Dead Money DLC, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12632475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastAstronaut/pseuds/LastAstronaut
Summary: "She nods… then gestures at your hand, and offers hers. She holds it, meeting your eyes intently for a few moments. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, then releases it and smiles slightly."A moment between Courier Six and Christine Royce, or: What I Desperately Wanted to Happen After Taking Her Hand.





	Courier Six & Collar Twelve

When Courier Six saw the maintenance elevator, she pressed her palms against it and wheezed out a breath of relief, lungs filled with blood-red toxins. She turned to her companion Christine and pulled her lips in a smile that didn’t reach her bloodshot eyes. “I need you to go down to bypass the power manually. After that, stay here and wait for my signal.”

Christine’s eyebrows raised with concern, eyes bouncing between the elevator door and Six. She chewed her bottom lip, hesitating, then let out a silent sigh that deflated her posture. She shook her head to decline the request.

Six swallowed back the urge to raise her voice; the other woman had greatly suffered in the few hours they've known each other, and she didn't want to wield fear to get her to comply. Not _yet_ , at least. For a person barely over five feet, Six had a terrifying presence when her doe-eyes bulged wildly or when she bared her chipped teeth to the countless Raiders and monsters of the Mojave Wasteland. Now, she was too tired and too hungry to channel that rage, opting instead to try to understand.

She quickly scanned her companion’s body language—arms folded tightly across her chest in a protective hug, height slightly curled to match the shorter woman watching her—and acquiesced. “I can check the area to make sure it’s clear--”

She stopped when Christine shook her head again, giving that look of frustration the Courier grew accustomed to since they met. Neither knew much sign language, needing patience and focus in order to communicate, two virtues in short supply. Six tried again, “Okay, so you’re not worried about enemies. Is it…”

Christine prodded her chin toward the elevator, and Six narrowed her eyes, thinking over the sound of her stomach screaming for food. “Oh. Is it the elevator?”

The other woman nodded with her eyes rooted to the ground, the dim light of the room highlighting a soft glow off her buzzed haircut. She shook her head again with exasperation, this time at an internal dialogue that Six wished she could hear.

The Courier approached her, ducking her head to catch the shine of Christine’s hazel brown eyes. She tried to soften her voice, which was worn-out and rasping from the poisonous cloud covering the air outside. “Hey, don’t be ashamed, okay? I get it. Ever since I clawed out of my own grave, I’ve been freaked out by shit that doesn’t make much sense to me either. It feels, like, I’m an elephant terrified over a mouse y’know?”

Christine pinched the back of her bottom lip between her teeth, and her chest expanded and shook with a quiet, broken breath before meeting the Courier’s eyes.

Six's lips gently lifted, and she pointed to a computer in the corner of the room. “I’ll check out that terminal and see if there’s a way to brute-force from here, okay? Shouldn’t take too long.”

Christine watched her settle in the rusted chair in front of the screen, cringing when the withering steel scraped obnoxiously against the floor. Six grimaced with an apology etched on her face and then went to work, her tawny gold skin paling in the blue-green glow of the terminal.

The former Circle of Steel Knight mulled over her thoughts, her face contorting at first with frustration at their circumstance, and then with shame at herself. She desperately racked her brain for the umpteenth time since emerging from the Auto-Doc, hoping she could trigger memories of reading and writing, needing to communicate with the other prisoners trapped in the Sierra Madre with her, needing to talk to  _Six_.

As if on cue, the Courier’s colorful language interrupted her turmoil and turned out to be a much-needed distraction. “Motherfuckin’ ass-pissin’ pile of _fuckin_ … nope, not that.” Her quick fingertips flurried against the keyboard, attempting to hack the terminal. “Huh… _almost_ …”

Christine would chuckle if she could. Six made her miss Ulysses more than she thought possible; she was determined to outlive the lost ghosts surrounding them with her brazen optimism, hauling Christine out of the appalling, worsening darkness caused by Father Elijah. Once again, misfit couriers were proving to be an anchor for the former Brotherhood Scribe.

“Son of a brahmin-fuckin’… how about… ” After a few deliberate keystrokes, a shrill beep indicated the Courier’s success. She soared from her seat, fist triumphantly punching the empty air in front of her before pointing at the screen. “ _Fuck_ you!”

She turned to Christine, copper eyes wide and glimmering. “I've found a way to do the bypass from here, so you should be able to just use this terminal. No elevator needed.”

Christine’s mouth gaped for a moment, glancing in the direction of the terminal. Her stiff features relaxed; she wore a tender smile, an unsettling contrast to the scar dragging the corners of her lips down into a permanent frown. She gave the Courier a thumbs up.

Six beamed, allowing herself to be a fool, ignoring the cruelty of the explosive collars fixed around their necks for just one moment. A noise from her Pip-Boy reminded her that time is of the essence, and she tore her eyes away from the woman in front of her to clear her throat and check the screen on her wrist.

They had a job to finish. They had to play their parts until they could escape, until she could return to The Lucky 38 and go on a Slasher-fueled bender to try and forget all of this. And maybe never see Christine again, but Six doesn't think too hard about why that possibility made her stomach flip.

The reason for Christine’s captivating stare was because she felt _gratitude_ , not desire. She didn’t want Six—at least, that’s what Six was chanting in her own thoughts, over and over.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

Christine took longer than needed to answer with a reluctant nod. She raised her hand, palm up, like carefully offering food to an agitated nightstalker and expecting to be met with jagged teeth. Consumed by uncertainty, she gestured at Six’s hand with a nudge of her chin.

The Courier almost forgot how to breathe when her shaking fingers grazed the other woman’s palm. Her eyes glued to hers, opening her mouth with a question her thoughts didn’t yet form. Christine gingerly squeezed around her fingers, pressing them into her palm, and ran the calloused pad of her thumb across Six’s scarred knuckles.

“I’ll be back for you.” The promise tumbled out of Six’s lips like a confession, and her heart felt like it catapulted out of her chest.

The space between them closed when Christine stepped forward, her fawn brown lashes sweeping over the Courier’s features. She paused for an extra beat on her lips and raked back up to a pair of pupil-blown eyes filled with confusion.

Six felt the air chill at the nape of her neck, and a wave of goosebumps rippled promptly after. The sound of her heart was thudding in her ears, tuning out the drone of the terminal and the creaking of decayed pipes underneath their feet. She didn't realize that she had been staring at Christine's mouth as each cell in her brain screamed _FUCK IT_ with giant neon lights that could be seen across the Mojave.

“Uh,” She breathed out, inelegantly, suddenly too aware of the heat emanating from their holding hands. “Just… hit me if I’ve read this wrong, okay?”

The words were barely pushed out before her hand dropped from Christine's to frame her jaw, mindful of the fresh scarring there. She balanced on the tip of her toes to press their lips together.

Any nausea-inducing fear of rejection quickly melted away when Christine dove forward into her, grasping her hips to root her in place as their lips moved together, curiously at first and then with rising urgency.

Six's fingertips traveled down the sides of Christine's neck, landing on broad shoulders that shot a thrill up her spine. The hold on her hips hardened and guided her backward until the edge of the desk behind them met the back of Six's thighs. She instinctively lifted herself to sit on it, nails digging into Christine's thin white tank top and tugging her closer.

Christine didn't want to stop kissing her, dominating the other woman's pliant mouth, slithering her tongue in to taste more. Her hands rushed from the Courier's hips to claim her all over —palming the swell of her breasts, clawing down her back, squeezing her inner thighs and generous behind.

A frenzied noise involuntarily grunted out of Six's throat, and Christine withdrew, still hovering close enough that their noses touched and foreheads pressed together. The air between them was dense with shaky breathing and dizzying electricity.

"W-we should use a word, or uh, _shit_. I mean, like, a signal or something? I-in case you want to stop?" She was panting, internally scolding her body for betraying her. The way Christine has her wound-up like a ten-day clock while remaining so _cool_ made her damp skin blaze hotter.

It was rare for Christine to smile in earnest, more often resembling a skeptical twitch, but watching Six blush and stammer made her lips stretch into a slow, decadent grin. She jerked once at the zipper tag of Six's jumpsuit and relished in the responding surprised breath. Christine mouthed "you," and yanked a second time, drawing down the jumpsuit just enough to expose her collarbone.

It took a second for her to register what she meant. "I… I should be the one with the word since…" Her brows pinched, eyes blinking until—oh. _Oh_. She felt her throat dry and guessed,"You want to be in control."

Christine’s features darkened when Six came to the realization, her face smug like the cat who got the cream. She nodded.

Six's eyes flashed around the room for inspiration, internally sighing with the fleeting relief from being under the scrutiny of Christine's impish grin. Christine took advantage as she did, trailing soft kisses from her chin and down her jawline. A severed radroach wing on the doorway floor caught Six's attention. “Radroach.”

When a huff of air hit her jaw in response, Six also chuckled and cocked her head to the side, exposing her throat for Christine's lips to continue their travels. “You come up with something better than--” she began to retort, but her mind blanked at the graze of Christine’s teeth against her frantic pulse.

Six gasped and tilted her hips forward, dragging her rear against the desk. She craved more friction from the warm body teasing her with eager hands, not caring about how needy and pathetic she must've looked or sounded. They had been giving each other coy smiles and puppy dog eyes for too many hours by now, and Six yearned to be devoured by Christine.

Again, Christine withdrew, keeping just enough distance between them to make Six whimper with impatience. Her greedy, indulgent fingers unbuckled and unzipped more of Six’s form-fitting jumpsuit, peeling back the obstructing fabric to put her on display. Six's full chest set afire with a scarlet flush, and she leaned back slightly to push her breasts out, presenting herself with a plea.

She wanted to tease her more and make her beg, but they were running out of time, needing to send a status report to the other prisoners who were in position and waiting for the Courier's orders. She mapped Six's bare chest with wet kisses, sucking and biting to leave marks for her to remember later.

“F-Fuck,” Six sighed when she saw a flash of pink slide over her brown nipple, the tip hardening between Christine’s teeth.

All Six could do was grip the edge to keep her balance while writhing, her body following the movement of Christine's palm running down her chest, leaving abrupt scratches into her skin with her fingernails. Six's knuckles turned white, hissing at the bright red lines branding her breasts, clamping her teeth down on her bottom lip as Christine soothed the hurt with her tongue.

Christine's tongue moved lower, and then lower, stopping to kiss the curve of her lower stomach, before ripping the flimsy material serving as underwear with a firm grip. Six wanted to scold her for it—it was rare to find underwear in the Wasteland let alone wherever the fuck they were now— but she gulped instead at how Christine peered up at her after sinking to her knees, hovering her mouth above Six's sopping cunt.

Nimble fingers dug through the patch of dark curls, spreading her swollen lips. Six mewled when Christine's hot breath hit her pulsing clit, snapping her eyes shut and tilting her head back until it thudded against an exposed pipe. She didn't register whether it hurt or not, too overwhelmed by the sensation of Christine's mouth being so close to her pussy.

It'd been a long time since anyone touched Six like this — embarrassingly, frustratingly, maddeningly long — as the Wasteland didn't give her many appealing options. And no, she didn't count humping Fisto's vibrating hand after too many Atomic Cocktails as a shining example of getting laid.

She felt a sharp smack against her outer thigh and gasped loudly, eyes wide and looking down at Christine who raised an eyebrow with a warning. She wanted her to watch, making another wave of goosebumps ignite Six's nerves. When she finally pressed her tongue against Six's swelling clit, the Courier jolted back with a strangled moan, and almost looked away before remembering what Christine wanted.

This satisfied Christine, rewarding her by licking a long stripe from her opening back up to the bundle of nerves pulled taught. Her tongue roamed in agonizingly slow circles, every so often flicking her clit with the tip. Six fell into a chorus of husky pleas and shuddering cries, piercing the top of Christine's shoulders with her nails and bucking her hips to grind her drenched sex harder against her mouth.

One hand rested on her trembling inner thigh while the other snaked up her torso, pinching and plucking a hard nipple. Six leaned her chest into the rough treatment, crying out a high-pitched wail. "Oh _fuck_ —d-do that again. _Please_."

She could feel Christine smile against her wet slit as she tugged both peaks of her breasts with a vice-like grip while picking up the pace on her pussy. She played the Courier like an instrument, expertly strumming the right chords to make her body sing. Christine worked her lips, sucking on the flesh and carefully nibbling with the edge of her teeth.

The assault on her nipples made her clit pulse harder, and Six felt a familiar hotness bloom in her pussy and flare throughout her body. She moved her hips faster, and Christine let her ride her tongue for just a moment before using both hands to keep her thighs spread open, quickening the flick of her tongue and wishing Six could hear her voice moan and demand her to come.

Six was chanting her need to finish, "P-Please please… _pleasepleaseplease_ -"

Her mouth dropped open with a silent scream as the pressure building inside her finally broke, waves of her first orgasm in months vibrating through her body. Christine licked her clean, collecting the juices on her tongue and savoring the salty flavor coating it.

Six was panting and groaning as Christine kept going, and she grabbed the back of her shaved head. "Okay, _okay,_ stop." She huffed out a broken breath that tapered off with an airy laugh, her body jolting at every sensation as Christine kissed upwards, cherishing each sigh when she sucked Six's brown nipples again.

Her lips finally landed on Six's, sliding the taste of a satisfied cunt into the other woman's accepting mouth. Their lips fused like a lifeline to each other as their fingers threaded through each other's hands.

Ever the mood killer, Father Elijah's voice buzzed in through the Pip-Boy. "Did you manually override the elevator? I can hear the event firing off. Now get to the main gate of the Sierra Madre, _quickly_."

Six hummed against Christine's lips. "He can wait. I want to return the favor."

Christine shook her head, pointing to her own wrist. When Six pouted and let out a whine in response, Christine smiled and framed her head with her hands, leaning in to kiss her softly. She mouthed against her lips, "Go."

Six wore a bashful grin. "After?"

Christine nodded, a bit too eagerly, and kissed the Courier again.

And then she kissed her one more time—this time for luck—before letting her get back to work.


End file.
